


Where’s My Love

by HeylelAndGoldenWings



Series: The Pigeon Fics [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Aramis Whump, Fluff, Hints at sub!Aramis? ish?, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Panic Attack, Pigeons, Sad, Sad!Aramis, Scared!Aramis, Very fluffy, Whump, d’Artagnan is secretly an angel, he tries his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeylelAndGoldenWings/pseuds/HeylelAndGoldenWings
Summary: Aramis hates pigeons. So... things go pretty poorly when Athos brings one home.***Modern AU





	Where’s My Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks! Currently I’m in Rome. Seeing all the beautiful artwork gave me a deep craving to write... weird, but whatever. Funny story, actually. Pigeons remind me of Aramis. It’s the way they walk. I think. There’s a lot of them in Rome, so I keep naming them after him. I’m up to Aramis the Fifteenth. (I dunno Roman numerals very well.). Aramis the Thirteenth was my favorite. 
> 
> ***
> 
> I’ll continue this as a series if enough people comment and leave kudos.

Aramis hates pigeons. 

 

They’re god awful beasts who flap around and shit everywhere and eat whatever they can get their crusty little beaks into. Once he saw them eating rocks-  _ rocks. _

 

They’re nasty, and Aramis can’t live with it. 

 

So when Athos brings one home with him, Aramis decides he has every right to flip his shit.

 

Which is why he’s sitting in a bar, nursing some gin, eyes glossy with unshed tears and heart still pounding in his chest. 

 

It’s perfectly justifiable- Athos and Porthos  _ know  _ he hates the ugly beasts. They  _ know  _ that they scare him. They  _ know  _ that he’d rather  _ die  _ than ever touch one.

 

d’Artagnan sinks into the seat across from him.  There’s a long pause, awkward enough to set both of them on edge but not so much so that Aramis feels the crippling urge to start  _ bawling  _ again. “Baby, you know they didn’t mean to upset you,” d’Artagnan finally says. His voice is quiet and his eyes are soft, which Aramis appreciates. He’s getting right to the point, but isn’t being harsh about it. 

 

“I know,” Aramis whispers. “I feel like a big baby.” He rubs his eyes furiously. “You didn’t tell them where I asked you to meet me, did you?”

 

“No,” d’Artagnan assures him.  “Just you and me. Don’t worry.”  He reaches delicately across the table and takes ahold of Aramis’ hand.  “But you need to tell me what’s up.”

 

“I don’t like pigeons,” Aramis’ response is shaky. “Once when I was five one flew into my hair and gave me fleas and I tripped and fell down some stairs and had to get stitches.  Fleas, d’Artagnan. I don’t want  _ fleas  _ again.”  His voice breaks and he sniffles. 

 

d’Artagnan smiles sort of sadly at him for a moment. “They’ll get rid of it if you want, sweetie.  But it’s just a little baby and Athos felt bad that it was out there all alone and stuff. You don’t even have to go near it.”

 

Aramis takes another sip of alcohol. He shrugs, blinking away fresh tears. “Yeah. I don’t. I’m gonna stay with Anne for the night, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Tell them not to worry about it. I’ll deal.”

 

There’s a minute of embarrassing silence.  Then... “Absolutely not,” d’Artagnan, hisses. “You’re not staying with Anne.”

 

“You don’t trust us,” Aramis accuses bitterly. 

 

“This has nothing to do with  _ trusting! _ ” d’Artagnan’s voice is steadily rising and in turn Aramis flinches. “We want you to come back home. Athos will get rid of the stupid pigeon.”

 

“Porthos kicked me out,” Aramis snarls. “He doesn’t want me to  _ come back home. _ ”

 

d’Artagnan sucks in a big breath.  “He told you to think about how silly you were being and to come back home when you were done thinking. He didn’t kick you out.” 

 

“Well, I’m not done thinking,” Aramis concludes. 

 

“You had a panic attack,” d’Artagnan finally realizes. 

 

“Yeah.  That’s what  _ this  _ is about.”  Aramis motions to his tear stained cheeks. “I don’t like pigeons.”

 

“Oh, baby,” d’Artagnan sighs. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’ll tell them to keep the bird cooped up in the spare room.”

 

Aramis hesitates, then nods his head slowly. “Only if they want me to come back.”

 

“They do.  We do.”

 

***

 

Aramis steps slowly through the door. He can hear Athos and Porthos talking in the living room, and the stupid beast cooing from the spare room. 

 

d’Artagnan squeezes his hand.  “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry.”  

 

Aramis shrugs, slipping behind his boyfriend. “Yeah, yeah. Protect me from the dumbasses, please.”

 

d’Artagnan spins around.  “Now, now. They love you.”

 

“Not as much as they love the demon,” Aramis grumbles. 

 

d’Artagnan chuckles, reaching forward to grab a fistful if Aramis’ hair. He pulls the elder into a sweet kiss.  “Be gentle with them. They feel bad.”

 

Aramis whines pitifully as d’Artagnan lets go. “Cuddles?”

 

“Soon.”

 

The two of them slide into the living room, and the sudden silence hits like a brick. Athos and Porthos look up, both looking slightly sick and tired. 

 

“Aramis,” Athos begins, practically jumping to his feet. 

 

“We’re so sorry, baby,” Porthos finishes. “We didn’t… we didn’t think it would be that big of deal.” 

 

Aramis looks down at his shoes, not willing to meet their gazes. “It’s okay.”

 

Somebody pulls him into a hug; it takes him a second to realize it’s both of them. He relaxes drastically. “It’s okay,” he repeats.  “Just… keep it in the room. Maybe I’ll learn to like it.”

 

“... you’re saying we can keep it?”  Athos asks excitedly. 

 

“...Yes.”  Aramis purses his lips. “I suppose. But I want cuddles, pronto.”  He snaps his fingers for emphasis. 

 

He glances toward d’Artagnan, mouthing a clear message: _ They don’t need to know that it was a panic attack.  _

 

d’Artagnan’s frowns, but nods in agreement. He’ll do whatever makes Aramis happy, really.  They all will. 

  
  


***

 

The rest of the night is spent in bed, filled with cuddles and kisses. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
